The Coonridge Digest

You’d hear these cries on a tour bus or sitting on the deck of your ship and an electric thrill would go through both the vacationers and locals as they’d rush to the rail to see the wonders that God had kindly provided on that particular morning. A single word like “Humpbacks!” would cause tuxedo-ed and evening gowned vacationers to stop in mid-gulp of their lobster and dash like excited children to view the sights. Now, sadly, the greatest cry of joy on a cruise ship is “I’ve got bars!”

I remember the days of cruising, of vacationing, of living before cellphones. Left with only their eyes and ears, travelers could and would experience the sights and sounds of the world in person. Alas, those days are gone forever.

Herb and I were seated in the fifth row of a tour bus on one of the most spectacular drives in the globe, the highway between Seward and Anchorage, Alaska, and we had drawn straws for the window seat to experience this wondrous vista with only a thin pane of glass separated us from the magnificence of our 49th state. The ride was punctuated by several stops so our journey took four glorious hours, and even though I’d managed to draw the short straw due to Herb’s clever manipulation of his right thumbnail, I was in heaven. Sadly, the two young ladies seated in front of us were in cyberspace. For the entire journey their eyes were glued to their handheld devices, and they only looked up when the bus stopped. I don’t know what their phones cost them, but they had wasted several thousand bucks on a vacation that they could have taken in their own living rooms.

Some cruisers take pictures of their dining table before they even have a seat on an ocean liner. They walk into a magnificently appointed dining room a-glimmer with crystal chandeliers, sparkling cutlery and shimmering wineglasses and are hesitant to even be seated amid such opulence. I always give Herb a short course on fine dining before we embark on a cruise. “Herb, you pick your silverware from the outside in. Yes, you’re going to have more than the one fork you use back in Coonridge, and no, you can’t push your peas around the plate with your thumb.” He generally watches me while I take my cues from someone else. But in recent years the fancy dining tables have taken on a new decoration. In addition to your salad and entree forks, soup spoon, butter knife, steak knife, dessert spoon, wine glass, water glass, coffee cup, and oyster fork, most tables on cruise ships now feature cell phones. Of course these are not provided by Royal Caribbean Cruise Lines, but by the vacationers themselves who ignore the whales jumping off the starboard bow and the continent’s highest snowy peaks to instead send an instant message to Aunt Ida, “I’m in Alaska enjoying the sights.” Sorry, but you’re not. You’re poking your phone.

Build all the towers and cathedrals you like, nothing is more glorious in my book than watching whales. Maybe it stems from a lifetime of staring at corn and soybeans, but when someone announces a whale watching tour I’m the first to sign up and if you value your toes don’t try to step in front of me. The sight of a humpback whale jumping out of the water takes my breath away quicker than the sound of Herb’s snoring, and I have no idea why most of the world’s population would choose to experience such a panoramic event while staring through a half-inch viewfinder on their cell camera. Several factors apply: You probably won’t get the shot, you’ll waste 30 pictures of water, you’ll block the view of the person behind you while you’re taking your picture, and most tragically you’ll miss the experience of nothing being between you and one of God’s most wondrous creatures. When you return you’ll bore your friends by scanning through countless photos of blue waves and explaining what the picture would have looked like while I’ll be simply smiling and telling my friend that you’ve got to see it with your naked eye to believe it.

I’m not an old stick in the mud and sometimes Google and Amazon are my best friends, but when I’m blessed to experience something once and perhaps only once, I want live the experience in the real and not the cyberworld. At the end of a day of exhilaration I want my heart to be worn out and not my thumbs.

You ever in Coonridge, stop by. We may not answer the door but you’ll enjoy the trip.

By Freida Marie Crump

Freida Marie Crump chronicles the comings and goings in Coonridge for the Journal-Courier.